


After the Rain

by Budderfire



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Be gay save the world, George Devalier, Holocaust, I'm not George Devalier, Midly inaccurate poisoning, Multi, Veraverse deserved more lesbians, What happened to Hungary, Will add more character tags as I go along, veraverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 19:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Budderfire/pseuds/Budderfire
Summary: Elizabeta Hedervary should be dead. According to the laws of luck in the universe, she should have died. But she didn't. She did not die of starvation in the cattle cars. She was not chosen to be directed to the showers. She did not die of exhaustion and undernourishment. She did not die of bitter cold in the wilderness of Ukraine.Katyusha Braginsky should be dead. Her brother and sister both neglected her, even though she was the eldest in the family. Her younger sister did not succeed in killing her out of jealousy. Her brother did not break her like the old porcelain dolls in her room. She did not die of loneliness in the emptiness of those old halls.On a fateful day, in the dead of winter, two fates converge. They won't change the world, but maybe, just maybe, they can change their awful conditions.(Yes, the title is a Vera Lynn song. Gotta keep up the tradition somehow.)





	After the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> In light of recent events, I've been inspired to write a fanfiction about another fanfiction series, the infamous veraverse by George Devalier. Though I don't know why he removed his fanfictions, I still love and support them. You can find multiple pdfs on tumblr, especially the ones found by tumblr user Georgedevalierheadcanons, or the-observant-frisbeetarian. I want to say thank you to everyone who loves George Devalier's fanfics, and that I don't hope to come close to the quality his works carried, but to maybe have some of the magic myself. Also, because I never finished Lily of the Lamplight (working on it) and my memory is fuzzy, I have taken a few liberties with Elizabeta's character, as well as Ukraine's. To be perfectly honest, I just really wanted to include them, as they seem very glossed over in the series.  
Thank you all!

Snow.

Nothing can describe the beauty of it, as it tumbles down from the sky in frosty flakes, shining despite the cloudy skies. Elizabeta watches them as they land on her eyelashes and her cheeks. It’s like the powdered sugar her mother would dust on tortes, and if only the snow was sugar, she could maybe take it with her as some form of sustenance. This forest is quiet, sound muffled by the endless banks of snow and the absence of people around. Elizabeta’s eyelashes are white from the cold, her shorn hair dusted with so much of it that the small pieces of brown through the dust seem more unnatural than the white.

It’s been three days of tough travel, of stumbling through the woods and over fields, all covered in at least a few inches of powder. It’s become so natural to her that she barely feels the cold anymore, but that might only be due to frostbite. She can see how blue her fingers are turning. At least she had the sense to steal some boots before her daring escape into the wilderness. She had no idea where she was, nor if she was close to any towns, but she knew she had to run, to leave, to get out. The guards tried to run after her, but she lost them after a day. She’d found some edible berries and ate them, but now, as she lay splayed out on the ground, she realized that they were probably poisonous. Her energy was sapping quickly. She hadn’t had much to eat back at… But nevermind, she couldn’t think about that. She had to stand up, or she’d freeze right where she lay. She went two days without sleep before she found a cabin the night before. It had no firewood, and only a few, moth-eaten blankets, but it was warmer than what was outside, and she’d managed to survive a little longer. That cabin was much too far away for her to retreat.

_ I’m going to die here, aren’t I? _ She contemplated, turning her head to look at her frosty hand. It wasn’t so cold that frost really formed on it, but cold enough that the ground below her felt only slightly chilly to the touch. _ What a terrible way to go, dying out in the elements, no one to bury me or to even mourn me. Nobody will even know I’m dead. _ Elizabeta’s eyes moved lower downwards on her arm to look at the numbers etched there. The tattooing had been incredibly painful, without any anesthetics or numbing for it. The thing was like an ugly black scar, one she wanted so badly off her arm. But no, she’d likely be saddled with it forever. At least forever for her wouldn’t be so long. She sighed, a small puff of warm air travelling down her arm. It warmed her hand slightly, a nice comfort in her slow dying. Her lungs hurt from all the cold, and her lips were like ice when she ran her tongue over them. At least it didn’t stick.

Elizabeta used to love winters. She loved how the world became so peacefully beautiful. She’d loved pressing her face against the shop windows and looking at all the wintry confectioneries, the new, soft fur coats and scarves, and all the toys that children would get on Christmas day. She’d laughed when she watched boys her age stick their tongues on the light poles and get them stuck, having get hot water poured over it or having to breath hot air on it to be unstuck. She’d loved winter so much, and now she would die by it.

However, the universe had other plans for Elizabeta’s life and death.

And as such, on that day, another young woman was out for a walk in the woods. She didn’t have a grandmother to visit, or something similar. However, her blood red cloak swished around her, blocking out most of the cold and snow of the morning. She carried a fresh pile of firewood with her, held in the pack on her back. It was maybe more than fifty pounds, but it wasn’t much of a burden to Katyusha. She was used to carrying heavy things, like plows, farming equipment, and even goats on occasion. She had carried the heavy burden of running a farm on her back for a long time as well. It was a calming place, and the seeds hadn’t become rarer, even during the war. People needed grain, and so she grew the grain. She had a small war garden, full of potatoes, carrots, and small fruit bushes. But those potatoes mostly went to vodka production, as alcohol had become a scarce ration. Many of her neighbors were glad to purchase it from her, as many of them needed it to drown their sorrows. And like her big brother had always said, she was good at making people happy.

She was passing the old lighting-struck tree when she saw something moving in the snow. At first she assumed it was merely a deer, or maybe a baby bear. But then she saw the stripes.

Like the tree, a jolt of lightning ran through her, like a chill down the spine. No animal wore stripes in the dead of winter. But people did. People wore stripes. And they weren’t prisoner stripes either. They were like pajamas, and something rang a bell about them. Wait. Wasn’t Janowska Camp close by to here? She’d seen the train once or twice while walking through town, on the rare occasions she went. It made her heart drop to her feet when she saw it. She had wanted so badly to break the people from the cattle cars, to help them and free them. But now… now she saw one of these people in front of her.

Katyusha ran down the little incline that led into the forest, avoiding the tree wells with expert precision. She fell at the girl’s side, staring at her with wide, dinner-plate eyes. The girl in front of her was white as porcelain, turning blue on the edges. Her hair and eyelashes were caked with snow, alongside her clothing. It was much too thin for the Ukrainian winter, that was for certain. At least the coldest of winter hadn’t come yet, and there was a chance of her making it. Katyusha tapped the side of her face, and for a few frightening moments, the girl didn’t open her eyes. Then they slowly opened, snow falling off her eyelashes and running off her face.

“She’s alive…” Katyusha murmured to herself, placing a gloved hand on the side of the girl’s face. “Can you hear me? Please, say something.”  
Her voice came out in a freezing, cracked sound. “ _ Please… please, get me… I need… _”

“You’re freezing, aren’t you? Here, I’ll-” She thought for a moment, then dropped her bag behind her, untying her cloak and gathering it up in her arms. “I’ll help you sit up for a moment, that’s all I need.”

She helped the girl up by pulling on her arms. Her skin was like ice, freezing cold even through her gloves. The poor thing definitely had frostbite on her hands. Katyusha wrapped her cloak around the girl, then her body around her to warm her up. The little thing sighed, pressing her head under Katyusha’s chin.

“Is that better?”

“Mmhm…” The girl leaned into Katyusha more, almost knocking her over.

“Woah! _Ostorozhnyy_! Here, let’s get up now, I need to get you home.”  
“Home?” She looked up, possibly dazed from all the sudden heat. Her eyes were unfocused, and she seemed incredibly dizzy.

“Yes, I can’t just leave you out in the snow with my cloak! Is it possible for you to walk?”  
The girl tried to stand, but instead fell back in Katyusha’s arms. “No, I can’t… wait… urgh…”

She broke free of Katyusha’s hold, grabbing her stomach and landing on her knees, retching on the ground.

“Wh- Are you alright?!” Katyusha’s mind ran with questions, and she shook the girl’s shoulder gently. But she didn’t reply, instead answering with an awful retch and a splattering of pink on the ground.

Pink…

“_ Remember Katya, mistletoe is for lovers, not eating. _” Her grandmother’s voice echoed in her mind.

Pink mistletoe berries…

She poisoned herself. This little, frostbitten stranger had accidently poisoned herself.

“Did you… did you eat any berries?”

“The pink ones…” She retched again, coughing hard. “They… they looked… safe.” She was dizzy again, and Katyusha caught her before she lost her balance. She hoisted the girl up in her arms, checking that her firewood bag was secure.

“They’re not. They’re mistletoe. How many berries did you eat?”

“I don’t remember… I think it was a lot. I was so hungry…”  
Katyusha blanched, then pulled the girl tighter to herself.

“Don’t worry about hunger anymore, then. I’ll feed you something when we get back.”  
“You’d… really?”   
“You’re sick and freezing. You need something to warm you up on the inside as well as outside.”

With that, she began walking. The little stranger kept her arms under the cloak, resting her head on Katyusha’s collar-bone. It was maybe a twenty minute walk, but Katyusha was determined to make it in ten. This poor thing couldn’t last longer, she was certain. She took mental inventory of her food stocks. Meat had been a little harder to come across, but she still had some in the smokehouse. She still had preserved vegetables and a little vodka couldn’t hurt to warm up the poor thing. Though she’d certainly have to water it down a bit.

Katyusha rushed through the trees, no longer paying attention to the serene winter scene. Now it was deadly, especially to the frostbitten stranger. It then came across her that she hadn’t asked her name. Best to keep her distracted anyways.

“So, what’s your name?”

“My name is… Elizabeta.”

“Elizabeta…” That sounded vaguely foreign, likely further west. “And… you?”

“My name is Katyusha. But you can call me Katya.”

“Kat… like a kitty cat… I used to have a cat.”

“I have one. She’ll probably like you, Eliza.” Katyusha could see her house in the distance, through the trees. The warm lights seemed so inviting, especially now that she was cold without her cloak. “Her name is Olga. She really likes warming people up, she’s like a portable fireplace…” Katyusha let herself get lost in the description of her cat, the small, fluffy, squash-faced baby that she knew would be all over Elizabeta when she got home.

Katyusha’s home was a wooden cabin, two floors tall and with warm, yellow light spilling from the inside. A fluffy cloud of smoke cheerfully poured from the brick chimney, and her bushes were covered in a sparkling layer of frost. She pushed open the door with her shoulder after pushing on the handle, and felt a rush of warm air run over her. It sent almost the opposite of a chill down her spine, warming her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Katyusha put Eliza down for a moment, tugging off her heavy snow boots and leaving them to dry in the coat room. She then pulled off Elizabeth’s, and gasped. The poor girl’s feet were not as frostbitten as her hands, but they were still cold to the touch. It greatly disturbed her how someone would go into winter so unprepared, but she could assume that whatever was back at the place she left was much worse than a Ukrainian winter, and that was saying something.

She tried to pull the cloak away from Elizabeta, but Eliza held on tight and she simply decided it would be better for her to be warm despite the snow that would get on her bed. It would just soak into the mattress anyway. No big deal. Katya picked her up once again and walked through the arch that led into the main part of her house.

On the right was the kitchen. It was a tiled part of the main room that had an intricate backsplash her grandmother had made in her spare time. A lot of the decorative things in it were also made by her. There were knicknacks lining the walls around Katya’s bed, and carved patterns on random pieces of floor. Her bed was off the ground, built in a box meant to keep rats from getting under it. Not that she had rats, but if they ever tried to break in she’d not have to worry about getting bit by ones under her bed. She took a moment to put Eliza in it, tucking the covers over her slightly lucid charge. Eliza looked as though she would cry if she had the energy, and Katyusha decided that before Eliza fell asleep, she would get some good food in her. Soup was the best choice of her options, and she strode over to the kitchen to get cooking.

“_ Remember Katya, cook with love. If you put love into your food, then even the most acclaimed critic will enjoy it _.”

Her grandmother’s words came to her again, and Katya rolled up her sleeves to work. Grandmother had taught her so much in the summers her and her siblings had visited. From how to properly make a soup to the finer arts of making big meals, Katya had learned it all, sitting on a stool at her Grandmother’s side, or sometimes even working on something hard to mess up while she was still learning. Happiness was found in a wooden soup ladle, when Grandmother pressed it to Katya’s lips. Always something good in it when that happened.

At the counter, she was not false nobility, not just another little “princess” whose father had fought the ranks to climb them. She wasn’t gilded in false gold, surrounded by empty objects and broken dolls. At the counter, right now, she was using her personal powers to heal someone, not just take and take what she didn’t even want. The beef broth wasn’t as warm as she’d want it, but it would be a damn sight better than near frostbite. She grabbed a spoon and mixed the other pieces, taking another to taste it. Perfect.

“Eliza, are you awake?”  
Elizabeta slowly opened her eyes, pulling herself from the covers with visible effort.

“Here, I brought you some food. Do you want my help with eating? Your fingers look like they hurt.”

“They hurt quite a bit, actually.” Her voice was still low, but stronger than it was out in the forest. “I’d like that help, please.”

“_ Da _, of course.” Katya sat down, pushing down the mattress slightly. The bowl of soup was a little better than lukewarm, and with a small hesitation, pushed it towards Elizabeta. “Here, hold it. It will warm your hands.”

She obliged, giving a small sound of relief that seemed between a sigh and a whine.

“It isn’t hurting, is it?”

“It’s so strange. My fingers felt warm, but now this heat… it’s so odd.”

“How so?” Katyusha leaned forwards, examining Elizabeta’s hands. They were still quite white, but were turning redder by the second. Was that good? Grandmother once had to treat Natalia’s frostbite, but she remembered little from the incident.

“Well, they don’t hurt as much, and feel cooler. But… it was only when I touched the bowl.”

“You likely have frostbite. That must be the heat working it’s magic!” She smiled brightly, a contagious thing that made a little smile spread across Eliza’s face. “Now then, you really ought to eat. If you think you can’t handle it, then just tell me and I’ll stop feeding you. Oh, and if you get nauseous or drowsy, tell me that as well.”  
Elizabeta nodded, then opened her mouth for the spoon. She almost keeled over at that warm feeling that spread throughout her. Everything lit up with warmth, slowly travelling down her throat to the pit of her stomach. It felt absolutely wonderful, and she couldn’t stop herself once she realized she was crying.

“Oh no! No, no! I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” But Elizabeta cut her off, looking up at her with a teary-eyed expression of joy.

“It’s been such a long time… I felt so… depressed. I never thought I would feel warm again. Thank you.”

“I...I…” But Katyusha could not form a proper reply. Instead, tears of her own bled down from the corners of her eyes, spilling over her cheeks. She covered them with her hands, spoon still held in her right. She tried to wipe them, but more replaced them.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright.” She moved the bowl safely out of range, relishing in the warmth on her skin, and pulled poor Katya into a hug. “You’ve done nothing wrong, there’s no need to cry.”

“Sorry-” Katyusha hiccuped, wiping her eyes again. “I’ve always been a crybaby.”

“I couldn’t care less if you were the world’s biggest crybaby or the most stoic tree in the world. You’ve saved my life.”

“Well…” Katya looked her in the eyes. “I did do that…”

“Right you did!”

“I… it’s just a lot.”

“Didn’t expect to be taking care of a frost bitten escapee when you woke up this morning?” Elizabeta offered, coughing a weak sounding laugh. “Don’t worry, I didn’t expect someone to find me when I woke up this morning as well.”

Katya slowly dried her tears, calming down from the high of emotions. She took deep breaths, clenching and unclenching her hands to get back her focus. “You said something about an escapee?”  
“How about I eat first?” Elizabeta winked, giving her a smirk.

“Alright, I understand.” She picked up the spoon, as she’d dropped it while drying her eyes. Another warm spoonful of soup went into Elizabeta’s mouth, and she waited a few moments before answering the previous question.

“Do you know of Janowska concentration camp?”  
Katyusha blinked, then nodded, slowly. “You escaped? Wait, you’re Jewish?!”

“No, no. I’m not. It was… it’s complicated. Then again, that could be applied to everything in this war. No, I was arrested and transported because I had not only lied to ‘German’ officers,” With that, she made visible air quotes, “But I was _ harboring _ a person of Jewish ethnicity.”

“Oh. But what if you hadn’t known that?”

“They knew that I had known. Someone ratted me out, likely. I’m betting it was Gilbert, he’d seem the type…” She muttered the last sentence to herself, but Katyusha had heard.

“Gilbert?”

“One of my oldest friends. I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to do it, especially because he knows I’d outlast any prison camp. But he’s the only person who knew that I could think of.” She took another sip of soup, shuddering slightly. “That’s not as warm as it first felt.”

“Oh, sorry! I should have let the broth heat longer, but you looked so hungry and-”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I’m so hungry right now I wouldn’t care if I was eating my least favorite food.”

“Do you have a least favorite food?”  
Elizabeta chuckled, then pulled a face. “Beer. I like beer brats, but beer in general tastes nasty. But going more solid, I really hate spicy food. It hurts.”

“Ouch.”  
“Yeah, but I’m not often a picky eater. I think I tried haggis once.”

“What’s haggis?”  
“Trust me, you do not want to know.”

As they carried on their conversation, Elizabeta kept taking bigger and more solid bites of soup, color slowly returning to her face and body. She began to shiver, and when Katya noticed, she placed down the bowl, walking over to her closet. It was big armoire, likely crafted by her grandfather. And it held all of the clothing she’d brought with her from home. A few old evening gowns hung on delicate hangers, and one or two pairs of stockings were there as well. But she wasn’t looking for beauty. Katya was searching for comfort. After a few moments of digging in one of her drawers, she found the exact outfit she was looking for.

“Here you are!” She laid out a soft, plushy nightgown. It was long enough that it would likely reach to cover Eliza’s feet, and when she ran a hand on the inside, she could feel the warm, downy lining. “This might just be the warmest nightgown I own. I usually wear it when Siberian weather comes to say hello, but right now I think you really need it.”

“That… that would be wonderful.”

“Alrighty! Do you want help changing, or do you think you can handle it?”

“I… actually, I think my clothes are frozen to my body. Please help.”  
“Of course, of course.”

After a few moments of wrestling with the stupid striped dress, (It was really frozen on there, ouch.) Eliza was sitting upright, pulling the nightgown. It was almost like being hugged all over, in a warm and soft embrace. That closet of Katya’s must have been good for keeping things warm, as when she went under the covers, she felt like she was lying on a patch of sunlight. Absolutely heavenly. When she rolled over to look at Katya again, the woman had a pensive look on her face.

“Is something wrong?”

“Those numbers… they branded you?”

“Well, how else are they going to keep track of prisoners?”

Katyusha gently took her wrist, rolling up the sleeve and taking a closer look at the numbers tattooed onto Eliza’s skin.

“Was it painful?”  
“Very, and I’d appreciate you not staring.” She snatched her arm back, hiding it under her body. A few bad memories came to the surface, but she worked them back down under. No. Not the time.

“M’sorry.” She murmured, looking away from Eliza’s face. “So, um… is it alright if sleep in here with you? You still seem a little cold, and I should be able to check on you in case there’s still a little mistletoe in your system.”

“What if I throw up on you?”  
“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Wow, you’re a weird one.”

Katyusha flushed, looking down into her lap.

“But I think I like that. You seem like a good person, Kat.”

“Oh, thanks… Ah! My cat!”

“Huh?”

“I forget that I shut her in the other bedroom! One moment, please!” Katya bolted off to a wooden door on the other side of the room, quickly going through and shutting it behind her. Elizabeta rolled onto her back, falling onto the pillows and shutting her eyes. She could feel the tension in her head. Exhaustion had been building behind her eyes, and now that she was warm and safe, she felt so relaxed that she could almost…

When Katya returned, she found Eliza sleeping quietly, not even snoring. She chuckled, pulling out her headband and pins, changing into her own nightgown, and climbing into bed after blowing out the candles. A fluffy, white, Persian cat jumped onto the bed after her, settling around Katyusha’s feet.

“Goodnight, Olga. Goodnight, Grandmother…” She rolled onto her side, lacing a hand with one of Eliza’s. “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

And with that, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, almost empty bowl forgotten on the beside.


End file.
